Loving The Alien
by Sunlight-Scars
Summary: HOSTAGE What if Walter Smith had another daughter? What if she happened to visit her father's house on the day of the events of the film? MarsOFC
1. Chapter 1

_**Loving the Alien**_

_Author's Note: _I just want to point out, before anyone points it out for me, that I did purposefully change a few plot details to bend the story to my liking. Example: in my version of things, the events of the film take place on a weekend, not on a Monday. And I've neglected the threat of the mysterious men who want the DVD from the house. _Reviews are unconscionably appreciated_. Oh, yeah, and I don't own anything.

Prologue

My name is Valerie Smith, and at the time of the story I'm about to tell you, I was nearly 22, and a junior in college. I was smart, I'd always done excellent in school, and my college ambitions were lofty. Taking courses in Psychology, Criminology, Criminal Justice, and Forensic Science, my college schedule was pretty tight. However, on this particular weekend, I'd decided to drive up from LA for a visit with my family. Little did I know then that this impulsive visit would change the course of the rest of my life.

One

Perhaps not the most important, but certainly the most symbolic of what I remember of that day, was the faded red pick-up truck near the driveway of the house. I like to think of that truck as a kind of crossroads. Had I been suspicious of the obviously out-of-place truck and said something to somebody - anybody - about it, then I probably wouldn't be where I am today. Yet, my complete obliviousness to this vehicle, my assuming it belonged to one of my seventeen-year-old sister's friends, changed my life. There's a kind of irony in that the simple act of ignoring something could ultimately lead to my freedom.

----

"Tommy?" Moving through the house, Walter Smith called out authoritatively to his youngest child. "Tommy, wha--"

"Hey, don't move!"

Walter stopped abruptly in shock as he moved around the corner and saw an unknown man in his house, roughly holding a hand over his daughter's mouth and pointing a gun at him. "No. No..." Walter's voice was beseeching.

"Don't move, man..."

"What do you want?" Walter asked.

The man, young, barely older than the girl he held, put the gun to her head, asking, "Who else is in the house?"

"Nobody..." Walter replied anxiously.

As if on cue, another man, older than the first, stepped calmly into the room, leading Walter's nine-year-old son in with him. Walter cursed, now seeing his youngest held hostage.

The man with the gun spoke again, moving the weapon back to Walter. "Where's mommy? Huh? Where's mommy?"

"My wife's dead..." Walter answered.

Suddenly, the front door opened, the sound echoing through the huge house. The men quickly turned to face the sound.

"Mars, the door."

Mars shoved the young boy towards his father and ran to the opposite wall, pulling a gun from his belt. Agilely, he moved from the wall and around the corner, gun aimed at the seventeen-year-old boy who'd just entered the house. Mars' posture relaxed and an exasperated look came over his face. "You really should listen to your brother."

----

Disregarding the red truck as I approached my father's house, I easily opened the front gate, parked my car in the large garage, and let myself into the house; I still had the code to the gate and my house key.

"Dennis, man, you can't do this!"

"I told you, don't use my fucking name!"

I opened the front door, and, looking around, saw no one. There was silence in the house. "Dad? Jenny?" I called inquisitively to my family as I moved further into the house.

"What the fuck?"

Hearing the foreign voice, I instinctively began backing away, closer to the front door. I hesitated, and that's when I saw Mars. He rounded the corner of the hallway and appeared before me, holding a gun.

Oddly enough, the first thing I noticed about Mars was not the gun he held, but his eyes. A deep blue-green, though shaded by the dim light and surrounded by his long dark hair, they looked brown, almost black. But, no matter what lighting, environment, or color, I've never seen eyes more emotional. As stoic and collected as Mars can seem, his eyes will never betray his internal feelings. They're perhaps his one weakness, his eyes, but those eyes soon became my weakness as well.

Looking back on the event, I think it was actually kind of romantic. We stood there, staring into each other's eyes, this instrument of fear and death between us, neglected for the brief moment we shared. Then I lost him; his eyes, his emotions, became guarded again, and he lashed out at me, grabbing my hair, and pulling me with him into the next room.

As we entered the room, however, he held me closer, his left hand surrendering its hold on my hair and moving to my waist. I could see the pain in my father's eyes as he now saw all his children in danger.

I was never close to my father like I was with my mother, but, since her death I'd tried to cut him some slack. He was doing the best he could, I knew that. I also knew that not everything my father did was exactly legal. For a long time I had expected something like this. Although I was suspicious at the age and immaturity of our attackers. Certainly not what I would have guessed.

Mars moved his gun to my neck now, and instinctively I pulled my head back, futilely trying to distance myself from the cold metal. In doing so, I'd simply moved that much closer to my captor. This was when I felt for the first time all the conflicted emotions - a kind of love, I suppose. Being so intoxicatingly close to a man who radiated such power. I was lost for a moment. Lost in thinking how good he smelled - cigarettes and leather - and how perfect his body felt behind mine. His stance was strong and unflinching. Almost inhuman, and perhaps I would have thought so, had I not felt his heat and remembered his eyes. I would have thought him inhuman, if I had been anyone else.

I knew, however, that there was more to Mars. More than just the weapon he still held to my throat. Not only had I seen a completely different world with that short glimpse into his eyes, but, I was a psychology major - I knew there was more to everyone. There was even more to Dennis, the inept leader of this poorly planned robbery, and there was certainly more to his younger brother Kevin, who was my sister's age. I was never given the chance to become acquainted with these two, however.

"What do you want?" I calmly asked Dennis, the one who'd earlier had a gun to my sister's head, though he'd released her after Kevin had shown up.

"Shut up," he snapped at me.

I tried again. "Just tell us what you want and--"

"Shut the fuck up." Dennis turned back to my father, the gun directed at him now. "Where are the keys?"

"Keys?" Walter asked, holding a frightened Tommy.

"Where are the fucking car keys?"

"In my office."

"Office. Go." Dennis directed my family into my father's office, giving Jennifer a rough push ahead of him. Mars let go of me now, and I looked back at him briefly before following the others. As was his custom, he walked with his head bowed slightly, his brown hair spilling over his face, guarding his ever-revealing eyes.

Once in the office, however, my father was hesitating in giving Dennis the keys. Dennis and Jennifer were both yelling at Walter, while Kevin looked anxious, and Mars stoic as usual. Tommy and I were sitting on a couch next to Mars. Suddenly, we heard someone at the front gate. The camera at the gate turned on.

"It's a cop. Dennis, it's a cop," Kevin warned.

Dennis started freaking out, which, as the day progressed, I would learn was normal for him. Dennis was nowhere near as poised under pressure as Mars, who at this time, had left my side on the couch and was on his way out of the house. My father was telling Dennis that everything would be fine; that he could talk to the cop and get her to leave. From my seat on the couch, I was straining to see out the window in my father's office, where Kevin was now standing.

Not paying attention to what Walter was saying to the cop through the intercom, I stood from the couch and moved so I could see through the window. I moved just in time to see Mars shoot the female cop at the front gate. At the sound of the second shot, Dennis started shouting and cursing again, and I sighed, sitting back down on the couch, not wanting to be in his way. I hugged Tommy, who promptly hid his face in my shoulder, wanting it all to be over.

We heard police sirens and several more shots. I reached out to Jennifer, who looked too scared to move. I pulled her onto the couch next to her brother. We watched our father again try to calm Dennis, telling him that he had contacts and could help him get out of this. Dennis abruptly turned to Walter, hitting him several times in the head with his gun.

Tommy and Jennifer screamed, running to our father's side. I felt detached. I hung back and watched the chaos from a distance, moving no more than simply to stand from the couch. It didn't feel real. Between the screaming voices of the two pairs of siblings, and the continuing sirens and shots from outside, it felt like a dream, like watching a movie or the news, like seeing it happen to someone else.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Later, everyone was back in my father's office, and everything was fairly quiet outside, although I'm sure the undeniable presence of the cops was hanging over everyone now. I still stayed back, not really wanting to be a part of anything; wanting to simply retreat, to find somewhere safe where I could just watch it all unfold, then analyze it all.

My father was still laying on the floor, unconscious. Dennis was pacing, Kevin sat against the wall, and Mars, standing in the shadows, smoking, was like me; he seemed content to watch. Jennifer, holding frightened little Tommy in her arms, was yelling at Dennis, scolding all of them, saying they would all go to jail. Dennis got fed up with her quickly, issuing the general command to tie us all up.

Kevin protested, "tie them up with what?"

"I don't know, just figure something out! Tie them up! Go upstairs!"

Dennis had not been in control of this situation for quite some time. I rolled my eyes at him. I glanced over to Mars. It wasn't hard to pick out just who the leader was here. I knew Mars' kind. I knew that eventually he'd overrule Dennis, yet I simply couldn't figure out what his motive in all this was. What was in it for Mars that he had to stay back and let Dennis think he was in control? Mars intrigued me. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

Mars knelt down next to my siblings, reassuring Jennifer when she protested. "I'm going to take care of him. I'm gonna get some ice for his head, maybe a pillow. It's okay."

It was the first time I'd heard his voice. His voice was like his eyes; it held so much, even when heard briefly. Now it was soft, gentle, beautiful. But Mars seemed the only changing entity that day. Everyone else seemed trapped in a state of shock, stress, confusion, panic. Mars was calm. That stoicism allowed him to be whatever the situation demanded of him.

"Come on, let's go." Dennis urged, impatient as always. He stopped his pacing and glanced at me. For once, Dennis seemed to have his shit together. He obviously had gathered that I was the potential threat, being the oldest, and seeing as I hadn't put up too much of a fuss about any of this. "Mars, take her."

----

"Is Mars your real name?" I asked innocently. Mars and I were in the guest bedroom, where I would have been staying if this family visit had gone as planned. I entered the room before Mars, I was sitting on the bed now, and Mars pushed the door partly closed.

He looked at me, tilting his head so his hair fell back slightly, showing me his eyes. "Marshall."

I nodded. He moved closer, sitting on the bed next to me, still holding the roll of packing tape he was supposed to use to tie me up. "What's your name?" He suddenly seemed young now, a confusing tone that sharply contradicted the natural strength held by his voice due to its depth.

"Valerie," I answered, looking into his eyes, trying to see inside of him.

He denied me his eyes, suddenly looking down, as if ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said, showing me the tape.

I smiled. "It's okay." I held my hands out to him, and he proceeded to wrap the tape around my wrists. I flinched a little, unhappy with the idea of having to eventually take it off. Strangely, I felt so at home with Mars that I never once thought of the guns in his belt, never once thought that he could kill me. It seemed unfathomable to me now that he was the man who killed the female cop outside, who spent at least ten minutes shooting at the rest of the small local police force. To me he was harmless.

In fact, this entire ordeal held a twisted balance of familiarity and strangeness. Things like this - crimes - were what I had decided in my teens to devote my life to studying, and suddenly being thrown into one, it felt natural yet foreign. I knew what to do, yet I couldn't bring myself to do anything. All the cases I'd studied, they suddenly meant nothing as I found myself in the presence of a 'criminal,' and he was just a man. He wasn't a 'criminal,' he wasn't inhuman. Yet he was still an alien to me. He was free. He could walk into someone else's home and inspire fear. He could kill as if it were instinct. And here he was, speaking so gently to me, the emotion of a child spoken in a man's voice. I knew I'd found a kindred spirit in Mars, and I think he knew he'd found someone who'd accept him.

I don't know how long we sat together, just taking in the details of one another. Even after he'd finished 'tying me up' he still held my hands in his. Part of me was shocked at just how much I felt for Mars. Physically, he was my idea of perfection; a dark angel. And he lived up to his name; god of war, bringer of death. In these moments with him, however, I didn't know the extent of his capabilities. I didn't yet know just how much death he would inflict.

"Mars." Kevin stood at the partly opened door, his tone a little stronger than I felt it should be. From the look Mars gave him, he shared my opinion. Mars turned his attention back to me, granting me one last look into his surreal eyes. He stood from the bed, running a gentle hand through my hair before he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Three  


I don't know how long I sat alone in that room. I'm a horrible judge of time when I don't have a clock around, so I couldn't even begin to guess. Most of my time alone, was just that. Alone. However, I do remember the shock I felt when the silence surrounding me was broken when the security system's metal shutters loudly closed over all the windows, deepening the already dim light throughout the house. After that it was back to waiting.

Alone and immobile, all that was left to do was think. One in my situation should at that time have been thinking about how one was going to get oneself out of the situation. But I couldn't get my mind around Mars. I didn't have enough information about him to truly analyze him yet, but his loneliness and need for attention were obvious. I suddenly understood the women who marry serial killers, even on death row. There is an appeal to psychosis, especially for women. It caters to the nurturing instinct; the instinct to protect. That appeal grows more complex with a man like Mars; both strong and weak, both arrogant and insecure, both demanding and gentle. Someone to protect and be protected by. It really was beautiful.

Occasionally during my wait, I'd hear the boys arguing downstairs, but mostly all was quiet. It seemed everyone in the house was waiting now. But, what were Dennis, Kevin, and Mars waiting for? What more could they possibly do? They could never get out of this. From what I'd seen of Dennis, all I could think was, ignorant as he seemed about what he was doing, he was trying to make some kind of a deal with the cops. But, Mars should know that would never work.

We were all trapped. The seven of us were trapped inside, the cops were trapped outside. The irony, even humour, of it all was not lost on me. But at this point, what could I do with irony? What could I do with analysis, or even thought? The only thing that I could possibly do to change anything was act, and currently that option was not available to me.

I looked around the dimly lit room. It was the guest bedroom, so of course it was sparce. I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall above the bed. I looked at my jacket, hung neatly over the side of a chair a few feet away from the bed. I stared at the jacket longingly, wishing desperately for the pack of cigarettes inits pocket. I groaned and turned my gaze away from the jacket. I waited.

----

Finally, I heard heavy footsteps in the hall. I looked up to see the door open, slowly, almost bashfully, and Mars stepped in hesitantly, quietly closing the door behind him. His tangled brown hair veiled his face as he entered the room. He turned on the lamp in the corner, and pulled two guns from his belt, setting them on the small table near the door. I could see his face now as he turned to look at me.

"Could you..." I hesitated in my question, and he looked at me inquisitvely, awaiting my request. "Get my cigarettes out of my jacket?"

Mars smiled briefly, though amiably, picking up my jacket and pulling the pack of cigarettes from the pocket. Sitting down on the bed next to me, he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. I leaned toward him, expecting him to give it to me. He moved closer, as well, but brought the cigarette to his own lips, inhaling deeply. He moved still closer to me, his eyes locked on mine now, and I realized his intention. God, he was beautiful. Eagerly, I moved my face closer to his, meeting his lips and inhaling the smoke as he exhaled it. I held my breath, savoring it, then finally exhaled. The smoke filled the small space between us.

I smiled, readjusting myself so that I was closer to him. His hand ran through my hair and he touched my cheek so lightly I could barely feel it. I saw now just how much his hands were shaking. I looked into his eyes with sympathy. I pressed my hands to his chest, my wrists still taped together. I wanted to hold him, to stop his shaking, to ease his insecurity. Mars must have seen that longing in my eyes. Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he reached into his pocket, bringing out a knife. I breathed relief as he flicked the knife open, easily cutting the tape around my wrists and ankles.

He leaned away from the bed, depositing the cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand and placing the knife next to it. As soon as his hands were free, I impatiently embraced him. I held him tightly, inhaling the lingering smell of previous cigarettes in his hair and on his jacket. I felt his hands on my back, felt them rake through my hair. I felt him bury his face in my shoulder, just like my little brother had done earlier that day.

I pulled away from him, and exchanged a hug for a kiss. It was my turn now, to run my fingers through his embroiled hair. His hands moved to my waist, trying to pull my body closer to his. My hands grasped his shoulders as his kiss became rougher, more demanding. His tongue entered my mouth and I couldn't breathe. I was kissing a god. Finally, he released me, and I gasped for air. I had barely taken a full breath before his lips were back on mine. I reduced this potentially long kiss into a series of short ones. I backed away from him slightly, wanting to speak with him but not wanting to anger him.

"Tell me something," I requested, breathless.

"What?" He kissed me again.

"Anything." Another kiss. "Tell me something about you."

Then the kisses stopped. Mars recoiled abruptly, relinquishing my company as suddenly as he'd obtained it. I felt wrong without him near, and I moved toward him. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, his eyes cast to the floor, the chaos of his dark hair shielding his facefrom me again. I kneeled on the bed next to him, pulling his hair back like a curtain and kissing his neck.

"I'm sorry..." I began an apology but his words collided with and overpowered mine.

"It sucks your mom died." He turned his head to me, and I let my hand slip from his hair, down his back. "My parents are dead too."

I opened my mouth, intending to ask him how he knew that my mom was dead, but I didn't want to trample the moment that held the potential for me to learn his past. I instead looked at him inquisitively, encouraging him to go on.

"My mom...she just walked out on my old man." His eyes moved back to staring at the floor. "Then he just, like...died. Died of a broken heart," he concluded, his eyes moving back to me. He leaned past me, grabbing the cigarette from the ash tray and taking a drag from it. "How'd your mom die?" He asked.

"She was in a car accident," I replied, nodding.

"Sucks." Mars took another drag from the cigarette.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was really close with her."

He exhaled and I took the cigarette from him, finishing it off and putting it out in the ash tray. "Were you close to your parents?"

Mars silently shook his head no. "I never really had the time."

I nodded, a piece of the puzzle of Mars' life in my possession now. He turned back to me, his eyes sorrowful, a child needing solace. I smiled, ready to comfort him. I pulled my shoes off and moved to the center of the bed. I held my hands out to him. "C'mere."

I caught the flash of a smile that crossed Mars' face, the smile that was gone as quickly as it had come. He pulled off his heavy boots and his jacket and followed me onto the bed. I smiled again, biting my lip in anticipation. He kissed me as I unbuttoned his dark longsleeve shirt and pulled it off of him. I halted the kiss so I could pull his second shirt over his head, finally exposing his bare chest. I stopped, taking a moment just to stare at him. I ran my hands over his smooth, toned abdominal muscles. The body of a god as well. I moved my gaze to his face, and I saw his first real smile. A smile for the attention I was giving him. A smile for the love and lust he saw in my eyes. I playfully returned the smile, roughly pushing him back onto the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Sex with Mars was amazing. Better than amazing. Neither of us had ever had sex quite like that before. I had had sex with guys I knew for a shorter amount of time than I now knew Mars, but nearly all my previous sexual encounters had stemmed from drunkenness. Mars told me afterwards that he'd never had sex with someone who actually wanted it. That made me wonder about him. Was the man who now lay next to me a rapist, among other things? I smiled despite this thought because the way he'd told me was so sweet, so innocent.

I smoked a cigarette now, running a hand through Mars' hair. His head was nestled against my shoulder, he seemed at first to be seeking comfort, but, I think he was listening to my heartbeat. He really could be so much like a child. That naivety made me love him more.

I laid with Mars for a time that at once seemed a second and an eternity. My time with him would never be enough. One can never look upon perfection long enough to be satisfied. He still lay with his head on my chest, occasionally looking up at me, just to see my eyes, almost as if he was making sure I was still there. After a time he grew restless, began to glide gentle hands over my body, a curious child exploring. In his eyes I could see that I was just as alien and just as puzzling to Mars as he was to me.

I was offered further insight into Mars later; at this time we lay parallel, able to clearly see each other, though that comfortable silence still lingered. Intensely he looked at me, and huskily, as if it was an epiphany he was still trying to convince himself was true, he spoke three words: "you're my girl." They were words that made me smile. I didn't answer them or argue with them; that simple phrase was not a question. It was a statement of realization for Mars, an issue of placement for me.

I knew Mars would try to possess me, that was to be expected. What I didn't count on was just how much I would enjoy hearing those words. They could only be a threat if I didn't want them, and I did. I wanted them more than I knew. I wanted to belong to someone and to have someone who belonged to me. Mars and I belonged to one another now; whatever happened next, and whatever happened after that. We were in everything together now.

Mars saw my smile and he knew I'd do anything to keep him with me. He smiled too, kissing me, then climbing over me to the opposite side of the bed, where he sat, pulling on his clothes. I watched him dress. It was unfair. After witnessing the gorgeous body he hid under all those layers, seeing him clothed was a painful tease.

He stood, picked my clothes up from the floor, and set themgingerly on the bed beside me. I looked up at him, silently begging him to stay with me. He simply smiled, gave me another quick kiss, then turned, placing his knife back in his pocket and his guns back in his belt, and left me alone again.

----

This time, I slept. And Mars awoke me. I didn't know what time it was or how long I'd been sleeping. He told me to get dressed and I did. I sat on the edge of the bed and he knelt on the floor in front of me. He looked up at me appraisingly, searching my eyes. I didn't know what he was searching for at the time, but I now know that he was searching for strength, for loyalty. He must have found them both in me, for he pulled one of the guns from his belt and gave it to me.

"You know how to use it?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yes." I looked down at the weapon in my hands. I checked the clip; full. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, there was Mars, waiting patiently. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

Mars put his hands on my knees, looking at me gravely. I listened intently, knowing I was being given instruction.

"Go downstairs," he began, "find a place to hide where you can see into the main room. Don't let Dennis see you."

The last part scared me. Just what was Mars putting me in the middle of?

"Mars, I..." I shook my head, and he put a finger to my lips, silencing me.

"Go downstairs. You'll know what to do."

"What about you?" I asked as he stood up.

He took my hand, pulling me up from the bed. "You'll know what to do," he repeated.

I nodded and we left the room together.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Mars stayed upstairs and I went downstairs. I didn't know what he wanted me to do. I leaned against the wall of the hallway leading to the main room, peeking around the corner, seeing Dennis pacing. My hands shook. I looked around the corner again and I didn't see Dennis. I panicked; I looked all around me but didn't see him. Suddenly I heard a loud thud in the living room. I turned around in time to see Dennis run from the kitchen into the main room, where Kevin was lying on the floor.

My breath was as unsteady as my hands. My heart beat in my ears. Dennis' back was to me, and I knew now what I had to do. I looked up and saw Mars, staring stoically at me from the open upstairs hallway. I took a step into the room, bearly hearing Dennis' crying and cursing as he held his dying brother. I looked back up to where Mars was standing for one last confirmation before I did it. Mars was gone.

I closed my eyes briefly, holding the weapon close to me, trying to regulate my breathing, calm my heart. Dennis cried out to Mars, screaming that "they shot Kevin." I opened my eyes. And I shot Dennis. It wasn't fatal, just a shoulder wound, but the shot rang hauntingly in my ears. I felt hands snake around my waist and smelled Mars' scent behind me. He brushed his face against mine, I felt his hair on my neck and against my cheek.

Mars moved around in front of me and took my hand. He led me over to the dying brothers. Dennis looked up at me; his mouth moved but I couldn't hear anything he said. Mars stood behind me again, one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand that held the gun. He raised my arm for me, and I pulled the trigger again, into Dennis' heart. Mars again put his hands on mine, bringing them back to my waist. Our fingers entwined together around the gun in my hand as Mars held me. Together we watched Dennis and Kevin die.

I wish I could have seen Mars' face as he watched the life fade from the two. Later, not that day, but much later, I asked Mars about this event, about why he had wanted me to kill Dennis, why he'd wanted me to watch them die. Mars told me death was beautiful. Death was perfect and it should be savored. It should be watched, should be seen, experienced, witnessed. Mars could say anything he wanted to about death, but I knew that he loved death so much because it was something that had escaped him.

Mars wanted death. Mars desired not only the death of others, but his own death as well. For Mars, death is that elusive someone or something one sees in a dream; one can move closer to it, but it will always move as far away as one moves close. For Mars, death was that one thing that can be chased but never caught.

I could never explain what it was like to stand there with Mars and watch Dennis and Kevin die. There aren't words to describe what it's like to see someone die, to watch the essence of life escape them. But to share that experience with someone is...romantic, sensual, intoxicating. I felt so close to Mars, now that I'd killed with him. In those few moments, Mars and I had formed an inexpugnable bond. Now, sharing the experience of death with him, I was bound to him; I could never escape Mars now, even if I wanted to.

I felt Mars' breath on my neck, felt the movements of his inhalation and exhalation behind me as our bodies stood together. I felt his heartbeat accelerate with the excitement of our kill, then slow to normal. Even after the brothers at our feet were dead, we still stared at them. Both of us lost in the moment, both of us rendered immobile.

Finally I turned to look into his eyes. His arms stayed tightly around me as I moved. Gun still in hand, I moved my arms around his neck. I remember a single tear slid down my cheek, the death rattle of my conscience. Mars kissed it away, just as he had seduced away my morality. And I loved him for it.

Moments later I took control. My mind began thinking of a story to tell the cops, a way to protect Mars. "I need your gun," I said abruptly, breaking our silence.

Mars smiled and his eyes sparkled with insinuation. "What?"

My arms moved from Mars, and he released me as well. I motioned with the gun in my hand. "I need to keep this. If the bullets the cops find in Dennis don't match this, then they'll know something's up. I'll make sure Dennis' prints are on it and yours aren't." I gave Mars the gun that Dennis had. "I'll need your knife too."

Mars handed me the weapon without question this time. He trusted me. It was all in my hands now.


	6. Chapter 6

Six

I readied the house just in time. The cops called shortly after I'd gone through the house, making sure there would be nothing to connect this to Mars. I hid Mars in our basement, praying there'd be no reason for the cops to search there. He trusted me completely. I told him that I'd come back for him as soon as I got everything straightened out with the police department. I freed my siblings and went over the new version of the events of the night. Jennifer especially wasn't happy about the lying, but eventually her desire to have it all be over with prevailed and she agreed to my story.

When the cops called I told them I killed Dennis and Kevin, and it seemed within minutes the entire police force was in our house. I went through the night's events with one of them, bending everything to exclude Mars. There was no evidence in the house to suggest anyone but Dennis and Kevin had broken in.

We were all taken to the hospital, and we spent the night there with dad. The doctors said that he'd live. The next morning I left the hospital early and without telling anyone. I went back to the house, having to duck under the yellow police tape that surrounded the entire structure. I found Mars sleeping. He looked so beautiful there, alone and peaceful in the dark and the cold. I woke him and he smiled a child's smile, happy to see me. Happy to see I hadn't betrayed him and that I'd come back for him just as I said I would.

I drove him to a gas station at the edge of town. I knew he could get a car and not get caught. He'd done it before. I gave him the name of a motel in LA, told him to get a room there and to wait for me. I told him I didn't know when I would get there. I hugged him and kissed him, I couldn't let him go. Even though I knew I'd see him again, knew we'd be together, knew our story would have a happy ending, I couldn't let him go. He was too perfect. I drank in his scent and tried to memorize his face. Letting him go that day was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

I went back to the hospital. No one even seemed to know I'd been gone. Soon after I arrived everyone began to wake up. Dad even woke up that day. He was so relieved to see all of us. He didn't even ask to know what happened. He didn't care. None of them did. They were all just so happy that they were all alive, they didn't care about anything that had happened and they wanted nothing more than to forget it all.

For the next couple days I repeated my story several times and filed an official report. By the end of the week my father and my siblings were allowed to move back into the house. I stayed for a few more days, then left, telling them I had to get back to school.

I never went back to school. I never could have after what I'd experienced. Mars had freed me during those few hours we'd shared, and I could never go back to my life. Mars made me who I wanted to be. Nothing could ever be the same again.

I didn't go back to school. I went back to Mars. When I met him at that motel he smiled that same smile, as if the entire time I'd been gone he'd been telling himself over and over that I'd come back, part of him knowing I would, and part of him always doubting it. But I did come back. I returned to him and I never left him again. And he never left me. Instead, we left together. Together we both left behind everything we'd ever known. Together, we moved on.


	7. Loving The Alien

I just thought I should post thelyrics that inspired the story, in case anyone who actually reads this hasn't heard the song. Disclaimer: I don't own it. The lyrics aren't mine.

"Loving the Alien" - Velvet Revolver

Sometimes I think I'm scared  
Sometimes I know  
I feel like making love  
Sometimes I don't  
I feel like letting go  
Maybe not  
I feel like giving up  
Is all we got

Sometimes is all the time  
And never means maybe  
Sometimes is all the time  
Maybe

And I'm moving on  
(Sometimes I feel alone)  
And I'm moving on

Sometimes I make believe  
When we're alone  
Machines have taken hold  
Can you get me to a telephone  
It's just the little things  
You used to see  
Am I still that man who makes you who you want to be

Sometimes is all the time  
And never means maybe  
Sometimes is all the time  
Maybe

And I'm moving on  
(Sometimes I feel alone)  
And I'm moving on

I never noticed  
How lovely were the aliens  
Lovely were the aliens


End file.
